Beastly
by pensandpaper13
Summary: When he receives a gruesome taunt from Damien Moreau, Eliot and the team must figure out a way to end him once and for all - and keep Eliot from going completely off the edge. Ties in with "Beauty & The Beast". Rated M. Trigger warning: mentions of rape & sexual assault.
1. Chapter 1

"Can you wiggle your ears?"

Eliot smiled, shaking his head. His blue eyes twinkled at Parker, who was perched naked on top of him, her silhouette glowing in the buttery morning sunlight. "I can," she said, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears and concentrating. Eliot laughed, reaching up to tug on her little earlobe.

"Can you curl your tongue like this?" he asked, showing her.

"I don't know, am I doing it?" she asked, curling her tongue. Eliot laughed, nodding. "Hmm…what else can I do…" Parker thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. "I can put my ankle behind my ear and sing the National Anthem in Portuguese."

"No way."

Parker cleared her throat, then pulled her leg up, tucking her foot behind her head. Trying not to collapse in a fit of giggles, Parker began to sing, her voice sounding strange in her odd contortion. Eliot giggled and reached for his phone. "I gotta get a video of this, hold on."

"No, no!" Parker protested, wobbling. Eliot picked up his phone and frowned. "Eliot signal?" Parker asked, working herself out of her pretzel-state. Eliot nodded, typing a quick reply.

"Nate's got a job," he said, tossing the phone away and looking at Parker. His face softened, the perpetual worry-lines on his forehead smoothing like just the sight of her calmed him. He ran his warm palm up her thigh affectionately. "I'll race you to the shower."

Parker smiled and rolled off him, groaning. "Too lazy to shower."

Eliot moved onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, his head resting in his palm. With his other hand he traced the pale scar on her shoulder, the only evidence of the bullet that had torn through her last year, the bullet that had incidentally brought them together. Parker's nimble fingers caressed his forearm, sliding up his shoulder to run her fingers through his messy chocolaty hair. She still wasn't used to the swell of emotion she got when he looked at her like that. Like she was the most miraculous thing in the universe. "I love you," she smiled, biting her lip. Eliot grinned and brushed her bangs away from her face before kissing her softly, intensely.

Parker leaned into him and murmured against his mouth, "Last one in the shower gives head." She cackled, pushing him away and dashing for the bathroom.

* * *

><p>When Parker and Eliot walked into Nate's apartment they were greeted by a somber atmosphere. Parker's guard went up immediately, the smile sliding from her face. Their expressions were dead-serious. Sophie stood up, wiping her red and teary eyes.<p>

"Eliot…Eliot, it's Amy."

Parker looked at Eliot, who took a moment to find his voice before asking, "What do you mean?"

Sophie seemed hesitant to say. "She…she was attacked last night. Her father called us this morning."

Eliot's gaze leveled with Sophie's, his back stiffening. "Did she survive?" he asked, his tone detached. Sophie nodded hurriedly. "Yes, yes, she survived. She's in an induced coma. Eliot, there's something else…"

"There was a message," Nate said from the kitchen. He uncapped a bottle of whiskey and poured it noisily into a glass. "For you. From Damien Moreau."

Parker gasped, her stomach contracting with fear. Moreau had been the scariest, baddest bad guy they ever faced. He almost destroyed Eliot. She thought he'd been in jail in San Lorenzo, how did he get out? More importantly, why did he go after Amy?

There was a moment of silence, and Eliot looked around. "What was it?" he asked. Everyone looked away, not wanting to say. "Someone tell me or I'm gonna start breaking fingers," Eliot said, only half joking.

"It was on Amy when Willy found her," Nate said finally. "A taunt."

"Show me." Eliot ordered. Hardison shook his head.

"You don't need to see it."

Eliot went over to Hardison and reached for his laptop. He pulled it back, grasping Eliot's wrist. "No man, seriously, you do not want to see this."

Nate looked down into his whiskey. "Show him, Hardison."

Parker wanted to scream at him not to. She wanted to run and snatch the laptop and smash it into pieces. But she couldn't move – she was rooted to the spot and all she could do was watch as Hardison reluctantly hit a few keys and looked away. A photograph popped up on the screens and the blood drained from Parker's face.

It was an evidence photo, time-stamped and high-def. Amy's face and lower half were covered by a blue sheet, exposing her from neck to pelvis, and the horrifying message was burned into her flesh in deep, garish letters across her torso.

**ELIOT SPENCER**

**IS A TORTURER **

"Before he found her Willy got a call from an unknown number," Nate said. "A man's voice saying… 'Damien Moreau sends his regards'."

Eliot stared up at the screens, taking in every nauseating detail. Finally Hardison hit another few keys and the picture vanished. Eliot slowly sank down beside Hardison. "Do you have the medical report?" he asked huskily. Hardison shook his head, but turned his laptop towards Eliot. His eyes clouded as he read, then he closed the laptop. "Alec, get me on the next plane to Oklahoma."

Eliot stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, an action Parker now knew was a tell-tale sign of distress. She wanted so badly to comfort him but she knew if she tried he would shrug her off.

"You guys gotta get outta here, man. Parker, you and Sophie will be his next targets –"

"No."

Eliot looked at Parker, already exhausted. "Don't fight me on this, Parker."

"No! We're in this together," Parker stepped forward, looking him in the eye. She may not be able to comfort him, but she could damn well help him. "We're all with you on this."

Sophie nodded. "We're going to help you solve this, whether you like it or not."

Eliot looked at them for a moment, then gave up. "Nobody goes anywhere alone, alright? Parker, you're with me at all times, got it?"

She nodded. She would handcuff her wrist to his if that would make him feel better.


	2. Chapter 2

_Eliot smashed his fists against the heavy black punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Sophie knew she would find him here, in the old musty gym downtown that was now dark and empty, the daytime patrons long gone. It was three days after San Lorenzo, when the dust had finally settled and the job was over. Sophie walked over to the boxing ring, her heels clicking against the cement floors. She perched on the end of a worn leather bench-press and watched Eliot. He kept moving, kept hitting, never acknowledging her presence, and she felt her heart break with every soft grunt. Finally Eliot fell to his knees, the weight of the lives he took finally breaking him down. He pressed his forehead against the bag, just breathing, just…surviving. Eliot was doing what he does best, Sophie thought. He was taking the punch and riding it out until it didn't hurt anymore._

* * *

><p>"The ICU is on the fifth floor," Parker said, reading off the plaque on the wall in the small Oklahoma hospital. The team arrived twenty minutes ago and they were all on edge, half expecting Damien Moreau to jump out at them at any moment like a prankster on Halloween.<p>

In the elevator Nate turned to Eliot and muttered quietly, "Can you handle this?"

Eliot nodded. Parker thought he had seemed okay on the flight, but she knew she wasn't exactly the best at noticing other people's emotions. She kept close to him, occasionally brushing her hand over his back to let him know that she was there and available to be clung to if the need presented itself.

When they reached the fifth floor they all held their breath. "Can you guys just wait here a minute?" Eliot asked them. Parker watched him walk down the hall, then she leaned against the wall and looked over at Hardison. He rested beside her and clasped her hand tightly.

The moments ticked by, then suddenly there was a loud crash and a guttural scream – "You did this! You did this to her!" – And Eliot flew out of the room and hit the wall, followed by a blonde man who was built like a truck. He grabbed Eliot by the jacket and pushed him up the wall so his boots dangled a few inches off the floor. Parker didn't understand why Eliot was letting this happen, but he was. He wasn't fighting back, wasn't even trying to get loose.

"Did you torture her?!" the man shouted in Eliot's face, spit flying. "Did you cut her?! Did you rape her?!" he shook Eliot, his face beet red with rage, his voice breaking. "Did you put a bullet in my wife's skull?!"

The team rushed forward.

"…I'm gonna find him," Eliot was saying. He grasped the man's arms, looking into his eyes. "_I will find him_. Do you know what that means?"

The man looked at Eliot for a long time, panting. Then he dropped Eliot and nodded.

"We'll make him pay," Nate said to him, and to Willy, Amy's grey-haired father who was standing in the doorway. Parker could see Amy in the bed behind him, unrecognizable with her head wrapped in gauze and her face purple and swollen, a tube protruding from her mouth. "We'll make him pay for what he did to her."

Parker straightened Eliot's jacket, smoothing it. Eliot looked at her and his eyes were…agonized. He freed himself from Parker's hands and walked back down the hall, having seen what he needed to see. Now it was time for the job to begin.

* * *

><p>In the hotel room the team sat down to form a plan.<p>

"What's his next move?" Nate asked Eliot, surfacing from the minibar with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Who's next on his hit list?"

Eliot dropped down on the end of the bed, shoulders slumped. "Hell if I know."

"Well he went after Amy, so maybe he's targeting the women in your life?" Sophie suggested as Parker sat down on bed too, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"So that puts Parker and Sophie on the list," Hardison said, "But that might not be it. It's hard to tell a pattern from just one victim."

Shaking his head, Eliot closed his eyes for a moment, like he was so tired he couldn't keep them open.

"What about your family?" Sophie asked. Eliot smirked, opening his eyes.

"No, he's trying to hurt me, he'll go after you four. He's probably got guys watching us right now."

"Waiting for an opportunity to grab one of us." Nate said ominously.

Hardison leaned back in his chair and sighed. "What I don't get is, why is he doing this? Revenge?"

Eliot sighed. "Sort of. He's messing with me. He's done it before to guys who've wronged him in some way – stole from him, ratted on him, messed with one of his girls. Looked at him crooked. He's got this whole cat-and-mouse thing going on...fucks you up so bad by the time he finally has you where he wants you, you're begging for death." Eliot's eyes were far away. There was a long silence as everyone let his words sink in, each pondering fearfully what was going to happen in the near future. Finally Hardison said,

"So what next?"

Nate shrugged. "Well, we find him. Do some surveillance, make sure he doesn't try to kill any more of Eliot's friends."

"Sounds good to me." Hardison said. "I'll check all the fancy hotels and condos they got around here, if I remember correctly this asshat likes him some luxury digs."

Throwing back the last of the whiskey in the bottle, Nate set it down on the counter with a clink and looked around at them all. "Okay. Let's go steal a…nah, fuck it."

While Hardison was doing his thing, Sophie dragged Eliot down to the hotel's gardens for a bit of a breather. The air in Oklahoma was fresh and clean, a welcome change from the wet, grimy Boston smog. Everything smelled like warm earth and field grass and apple blossoms.

"I can't believe you grew up here," Sophie said, inhaling deeply and smiling. Eliot looked around, his sad eyes still distant.

"It was a long time ago." He said.

Sophie stared at him, choosing her words carefully. "You didn't do this to Amy, Eliot. You know that, right?"

He was quiet. She took his arm and led him over to a bench opposite a sweet old couple taking pictures by a koi pond. Eliot ran his fingers through his hair and folded his arms over his chest. To the old couple he probably appeared like he was just a bored husband, but Sophie could see the slight movement of his eyes, the stiffness in his neck. They were being watched and he knew it. Instinctively she slid a little closer to him.

"Please, don't take this on." She said quietly. "What happened to her isn't your fault."

Silence. Finally he said, his voice barely over a whisper, "Did I ever tell you what the first thing I did for him was?"

She shook her head. He kept his eyes straight ahead, a coldness shrouding his face. "I burned his initials onto an innocent man."

He glanced at Sophie, gauging her reaction. She kept her face neutral, saying nothing.

"One of his boys stole a key of heroin from him…I tracked down his brother, burned him, put a bullet in his brain and called the guy…Damien Moreau sends his regards."

Sophie swallowed. Eliot raked his fingers through his hair and she noticed they were trembling. "I…I forgot about it. Until I saw it on Amy. Soph, I did a lot of things for Moreau, things he didn't ask the others. What if he's copying them all?"

She looked away, over at the old couple. They were holding hands now. "It doesn't matter," she said. "It doesn't matter because he's not going to get near any of us. He's not going to hurt anybody else."

"I can't promise that –"

"He's not going to hurt us," Sophie interrupted forcefully, leaning even closer, "Because as soon as we find him, you're going to kill him.

He nodded slowly, his gaze meeting hers. She saw the raw truth there as he said softly, "That…that I can promise you."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hardison hadn't slept in three days. Every time he closed his eyes he was back inside that box, six feet under and running out of air…he must've nodded off in the passenger seat of Lucille, because he woke up gasping for breath, a scream hanging from his lips. Eliot, who was driving, reached over and put his hand on his chest, shaking him. "Hey, hey, it's okay, shh...you were dreaming." He soothed. Hardison sat up and rubbed his eyes, digging the heel of his palms into his sockets. Eliot rubbed his chest gently and then rested his hand on the steering wheel as Hardison composed himself. After a moment he said, "I get them too, sometimes. It's okay to be scared, Hardison. The trick is to not let it control you." He glanced at Hardison, who sniffed and said, "How?" Eliot smiled a little. "Someone once said to me, 'what you fear most has already happened to you'. I just think of that. You were already put in a box, Hardison, and you survived." He looked at Hardison, his eyes soft and kind as an on older brother, and Hardison smiled back. He knew he would not have nightmares that night._

* * *

><p>"Alright, so looks like Moreau is hiding out at the Plaza at the edge of town." Hardison said to the team, pointing with his laser pointer at the screen, where surveillance videos with Moreau and some of his known followers caught on tape coming in and out. "Obviously there's no footage inside and he's not registered, like, at all. Must've bought off the concierge."<p>

Parker, who was sitting on Eliot's knee, narrowed her eyes at the videos. She wanted to break that douche's face. Carve Amy's name in his chest. Maybe pour acid on his balls or something.

"We'll have to get in to find out what room he's in," Nate said. "So we'll need a diversion, something to make him think we're doing something else. We need the element of surprise."

"It's all we got," Hardison commented with a sigh. As the team started brainstorming ideas for a diversion, Parker got distracted by Eliot's warm hand on her back. She looked down at him and found he was looking up at her, his head resting on his hand. She smiled. It felt like so long ago they were lying in bed making silly faces and singing anthems in Portuguese. She smoothed his hair behind his ear and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, leaning in to press her lips to his temple.

"…once we get there. Eliot?"

Nate's voice broke through their moment of peace and Eliot looked over. "What?"

"We need to discuss how we're going to…handle Moreau." Nate said, glancing around at them all. Sophie looked down at the ground. Parker's insides twitched and she looked at Eliot. It would be so easy for Eliot to just eliminate him. Just cut the bullshit and get rid of the threat. And from the silence in the room, Parker knew everyone else was thinking the same. Or, almost everyone.

"I know that killing him is the easiest way out, people, but remember – we're the good guys." Nate said. "We don't kill people, even if they deserve it."

"But even if we get him arrested again," Hardison said, "who's to say he won't just break out again? And this time come after Parker or Sophie first?"

Nate shook his head. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen. Now, we need to figure out how to get him arrested. I'm thinking…dead hooker."

"That'll get him a slap on the wrist, Nate, come on –"

"Alright, three dead hookers."

"Where are we gonna get three dead hookers? I say we fake a terrorist act."

"And cause unnecessary mass panic? Intelligent suggestions only, please, Hardison."

Parker looked at Eliot, who was watching her while everyone else argued. His blue eyes were soft and resolute. He was going to kill Moreau no matter what Nate wanted.

A buzz underneath Parker startled her. She nimbly moved to Eliot's other knee to allow him to pull his cell phone from his pocket. He slowly put it to his ear and Parker could hear the voice on the other end.

"_23 Crescent Street. Damien Moreau sends his regards_."

* * *

><p>Eliot and Parker went alone to the address. He wanted to go alone, but Parker wasn't having it. So they drove together to 23 Crescent Street with hollow feelings in their stomachs, scared of what – and who – they might find. They pulled up in front of the storefront and found it was an abandoned horse tack shop. Parker got out of the car and looked up at the faded, peeling sign painted above the doors. <em>Sanford's Tack &amp; Riding since 1919.<em>

"I remember when this shut down," Eliot said to her. "I was around thirteen, I think."

The door was unlocked, so they went in cautiously and looked around. It was pretty much empty, with evidence of kids who must've hidden here to smoke and drink their dad's beer. Parker followed Eliot to the back room, where a sign above the door told her was where they used to display their saddles.

Parker could smell it before she saw it. Sour and coppery, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. A girl about nineteen lay on the floor, naked, her throat slashed and a message cut into her flesh like Amy. All of Parker's breath left her body.

**ELIOT SPENCER**

**IS A RAPIST**

"Fuck." Eliot turned his back on the girl. Parker couldn't take her eyes off her. She probably would've kept staring if Hardison's voice in her earbud hadn't jolted her.

"_Parker, Eliot, they're here!"_

The two ran for the door. Beyond Hardison's voice, Parker could hear the sounds of an ambush that she should've expected. The whole point of the dead girl was to get Eliot away from the others, why didn't she _see_ that, if she had clued in she wouldn't be hearing her friends being attacked while she was all the way across the damn city.

"We're coming!" she said, jumping into the car. Eliot peeled out into traffic and the noise in the earbud was momentarily drowned out by the screech of tires and the honks of angry car horns as they weaved through the streets at top speed.

_Bang! Bang!_

"Was that a-" Parker gasped. Gunshots. "Who's hit? Hardison? Hardison?"

"_It's me! He got me!_"

Eliot pulled into the lot of the hotel and they jumped out, racing into the building. They took the stairs and when they got to their hallway they could hear Nate's voice in the room. Eliot and Parker peered inside to see three guys in black hoodies, and Nate, Sophie and Hardison on their knees, hands behind their backs. Execution style.

What happened next happened very quickly. Eliot charged the men and Parker dove for the team, helping them duck for cover as Eliot fought with the Hoodies. Thirty seconds passed before all three of them were on the floor. Eliot picked up their guns and took the magazines out, tossing them away.

"They got me," Hardison said, "They shot me in my damn ass, woman!"

Parker cut his hands loose, then Nate and Sophie's, and they helped Hardison over to the bed so he could lay down on his front. He was bleeding from the seat of his pants, where his buttocks met his leg. Parker pulled off her sweater and pressed it to the wound, making him yelp. The sight of the blood reminded Parker of what she had seen in the tack shop and her mouth turned dry.

* * *

><p>Parker sat on her hands while Eliot stitched up Hardison's wound. They'd knocked him out with some liquor from the mini bar and every now and then he'd mumble something, but he was pretty much out. They'd taken Moreau's guys and dropped them at the police station, where they probably had warrants of some kind to keep them out of their hair for a while. Nate and Sophie had gone back to their room to clean up, and Parker watched Eliot from the table across the room, chewing her lip. She couldn't get that girl out of her head – or the message. She didn't believe it, at least, not really. She <em>couldn't<em> believe it.

"Did you know her?" Parker asked after a while. Eliot glanced up, then shook his head.

"No…no, I didn't."

Parker nodded. "So they just used her as a distraction. God, I wanna get this guy. I wanna smash his face into broken glass or something."

Eliot smirked and pulled his bloody gloves off, tossing them into the trash. Parker looked down at her sneakers, psyching herself up to say what she really wanted to say. She realized she was scared of the answer.

"It…it's not true, right?" she said slowly, raising her gaze to settle on Eliot. "You're not…you didn't…I mean, I know you've done…some things, but you never…the message, I mean you didn't –"

"No." Eliot said, standing up. He came over and knelt down in front of Parker, looking up at her. "I _never_ hurt someone like that."

"Why would he say that, then?" Parker asked in a small voice. Eliot's eyes shone when she looked into them. She put her hand on his neck, smoothing her thumb along his rough jawline. She wanted so bad to believe him…but she also knew that Eliot was a bad guy. A real one, not like Hardison or Nate.

"Because…because I let it happen, once. I…I was there." Eliot said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "After…after, I told Damien it wouldn't happen with me again."

Parker let out a breath of relief. "He knows you feel guilty." She murmured. "He's messing with you."

Eliot brushed away wetness from under his eye and gripped the legs of Parker's chair. "I did…so many bad things, Parker, but that…I never did."

She nodded and cupped his face with both of her hands, leaning down to kiss him. She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed softly against him, both in relief and in sadness. She knew Eliot was a bad guy, but she also knew that he was a good man. She just didn't know if the good outweighed the bad yet.


End file.
